Get Mine, Get Yours
by Tourniquet
Summary: Betrothals are SO 17th century...or are they? UPDATED December 18th
1. Baby You Pretend That Things Arent

All aspects of Harry Potter © belong to J.K. Rowling, except this story, in which the words and tales woven are of my pen.

**Note: I accept any constructive criticism, and greatly appreciate it in helping me to improve in my writing. If this story has been written before, I apologize but I can't help what comes from fingers when I place them on the keyboard. Alas, I hope you enjoy my story, and I apologize in advance if I don't update or even abandon the story as I am horribly plagued with writers block often.**

This story was inspired from the song "Get Mine Get Yours" by Christina Aguilera. ^_^

**Chapter 1: Baby You Pretend That Things Ain't What They Seem...**

She could feel his gaze upon her back. It was uncomfortable and yet tingling at the same time. Hermione was casually eating an apple one Sunday morning as she read the Daily Prophet at the breakfast table. Across from her were her two best friends Ron and Harry who were arguing over who was more slimy, Snape or Filch.

"I bet the guy hasn't washed his hair in his entire life," Harry said, spreading jam on his toast.

"Yeah, but I somehow Filch has either." Ron said snickering.

Hermione paused looking over her newspaper. "I dunno Ron, I gotta go with Harry on this one." She said before biting into her apple.

Ron shot a triumphant look at Harry and began eating his cereal and lightning bolt speed. She shot a look of disgust at him when a soggy 'O' flew up and hit her in the forehead and stuck there.

"Why are you eating so fast?" she asked him.

"Quidditch practice." Harry supplied, and then tried to force a whole piece of toast in his mouth.

She rolled her eyes in response and threw down her newspaper. "I'll be in the library."

Hermione had always thought that Ron and Harry would get over their Quidditch obsession once they had grown up, but alas they were in their seventh year and still fought over it like small children. She had given up on even attempting to like the game really, and only attended the matches when they blackmailed her into going.

Making her way across the school, she was oblivious to another person following her. 

"Granger." Came a quiet voice behind her, one voice that never once in her life had been quiet when it spoke to her, never gentle tones which she had just heard. She whipped around on the spot and stared at the boy whose face was not impaled with it's usual sneer or smirk, but instead a look of bitter, perhaps pain was there.

"Malfoy?" she said, a question upon her face, not quite gentle in concern but not guarded either.

"I need to speak with you." His eyes darted around them, checking to see if anyone was watching.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "We are already speaking. What does this concern?"

His eyebrows drew together slightly in annoyance. "Would you just _follow me_ and quit with the questions." He said turning to go down the eastern hallway.

"No. Tell me here." Hermione crossed her arms. "Or I'm leaving."

He sighed with deep impatience and quickly looked behind him with caution.  "Have you received any _strange owls lately?"_

"Uh. no? Should I have?" came her response.

"NO! Draco yelled rather loudly. "I mean no." He glanced over her shoulder and then quickly turned on his heel. Somebody was coming it seemed. "Good riddance _Mudblood_." He said the last part rather loudly and took off, walking extremely fast away from her.

Hermione stared at his retreating back in confusion. "What the hell?" she mumbled and shook her head. Seemed the prat had finally cracked.

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His footsteps were rather light as he made his way towards the Slytherin common room. She had not received the owl, nor letter as of yet. Relief was very high in his mind, although he suspected she would have sought him out if she would have heard the news. Hermione Granger was not a girl to just let things go. Through the last seven years, he had finally stopped his constant harassment of her. He didn't give it up totally though. A weekly spat with her and her two goons was expected of him naturally, and he wasn't one to not keep up appearances. Simply, he was bored with the repetitive insults they traded and he wanted to keep his pretty face in tact now that the Weasel had grown taller than him, and wasn't exactly known for his temper.

Just when would the owl arrive though? He had gotten his just that morning and had been bulldozed by the news. The only solution in his mind was to somehow thwart her owl and keep the news from her, until he could somehow remove the problem. _The problem_. It was one of great significance. Never in his life had he heard of such circumstances being halted, especially not by an eighteen year old boy. Hopelessness almost came upon him with his thoughts, but he quickly brushed it aside. He was Draco Malfoy and he was used to being able to twist those around him in order to get his way. How was this any different?

'Sweet sorrow' he spoke to the Slytherin Common room entrance, a pair of tall knights who drew aside their axes and the door in the wall appeared. Inside, the room was almost empty. Most were still at breakfast. Only a pair of sixth years remained, who were more than snuggling on a couch. He shot them a look, and they quickly halted their actions. Sighing, he plopped down on an arm chair near the blazing fire. The common room was always cold, being near the dungeons, drafts tended to drift through the room. It being almost November didn't help either. 

Staring into the fire, he recalled the contents of the letter just hours before. '_You are to marry once your betrothed is eighteen, like yourself.'_ When was that? He wondered. _'She is a girl of the seventh year, like yourself, of the Gryffindor house.' He had almost choked when he had read that line. Why the hell would his father betroth him to some idiot girl from Gryffindor? They were all mostly half breeds, or even worse Mudbloods, and he hated even associating with them even in the times of Prefect duties. The last line had been the ultimate worst. __'Her name is Hermione Granger. She is of actual pure blood lines, but has been forced into a life in which she has been raised by Mudbloods, and thus believes herself to be one.' His betrothed was Granger?_

His thoughts had almost run away without him when he had read that line. Granger. The filthy little Mudblood he had always detested and tortured all these years. He couldn't believe it. He refused to, and had actually wrote his father immediately, demanded that this not be true. That he was mistaken. A response had come at his breakfast table and had confirmed the truth. 

Of course Draco had always known he was betrothed to someone, since he was a small boy he mother had spoken of 'the girl' who would make his dreams come true. At one time he had almost believed her. Then Lucius had informed him that the marriage was just an alliance between the Malfoys and her family. So, throughout Draco's days at Hogwarts he never attached himself to one girl.  Of course he had never turned down a good romp in his bed, but never had he been somebody's other half. He had known better to actually love someone, because one day he would meet 'the girl' who he was to love. Of course now, he doubted he would actually love this girl. Betrothals were not about love, only about political alliances and producing heirs. Of course that didn't mean that be respect and consideration were absent. 

Throughout all of Draco's breakfast he had stared at Hermione, trying to absorb the fact that he was to marry her. He couldn't imagine what her response would be to all of this. Chances were that she didn't even know she was betrothed and was madly in love with Pottyhead. Draco had felt a surge of anger at that thought. She was his. 

Of course the years of aging had done more than benefit her, he could more easily admit now. She had grown her hair long, midway done her back and its length did aid in stopping it from swell and poofing in every direction, although it could not be considered tame by any standards as most people's hair was. It seemed to have a mind of its own, Draco decided as he stared at her back. Every single strand of it seemed to be in argument with the others as of what to do that particular day. Some was curling, some just wavy and even some of her hair could be considered to be pin straight. It was actually rather…endearing? Just at that moment, Hermione shook her head and the light from above made the highlights shimmer. Gold and copper were woven into each strand of darkest brown on her head, and Draco knew that many of witches at Hogwarts had performed spells to attempt to have their hair that natural glow that came from sun or sometimes just naturally. He had witnessed Pansy attempt it just last week, and she had only succeeded in turning her hair a shocking color of black from the summery blonde it normally was.

Draco continued to watch her throughout breakfast and received many of glares from the Gryffindor table, as he dared to look their direction. He didn't care in the slightest though. When Hermione had gotten up and left, he didn't know what he was doing. His legs had a mind of their own when he followed her across the castle it seemed.

Now he was sitting in the common room, debating in what to do in light of his situation. He hadn't the slightest idea of what that was.

To be continued…


	2. All This Tension Telling Me Just

All aspects of Harry Potter © belong to J.K. Rowling, except this story, in which the words and tales woven are of my pen.

**Note**: I have no idea of what the responses of the first chapter are before writing this chapter, I offer my apology as I have not answered any questions from the first (if there any!). As always, polite criticism welcomed. If you can't do it nicely, then you can kiss my ass, because there is nothing worse than someone who only insults someone else's work when most rude flamers don't even take the time to write their own work.

Enjoy

-Tourniquet 

**Chapter 2:**** All This Tension Telling Me Just Exactly What We Should Be…**

"Have you noticed anything peculiar about Malfoy lately?" Hermione was sprawled upon a patch of grass just outside the castle writing an essay for Transfiguration later that day. She had already written 10 inches more than the 2 and one half feet required, and wasn't showing any signs of stopping.

Beside her laid Ginny Weasley who raised her head in shock and stared at Hermione, not in shock at what she said, but more that she said anything. When Hermione Granger was doing her homework, nobody dared to say a peep unless it was deathly important. Ginny could still recall last week when Ron had come running into the common room late one night when Hermione, Harry and herself were studying, or rather Hermione was and Ginny was concentrating on running her toe up and down Harry's thigh. Ron was yelling at about how he had heard that there was to be some sort of Ball that year, around Christmas and he had heard it at the Prefect meeting that Hermione hadn't been in attendance. Hermione had looked up with an evil look in her eye and thrown her bottle of ink at Ron.

It brought a chuckle to Ginny's face remembering the look of Ron with ink dripping down his pale freckled face.

"There's nothing funny is what I asked. What are you laughing at?" Hermione demanded impatiently.

She quickly composed herself. "Oh, nothing - Malfoy, peculiar?" Ginny pretended to ponder the question. "Other than initiating fights with my idiot brother and Harry every few days or insulting one of us…? No, can't say that I have…" She tried to stop the grin that threatened to plant itself on her face.

"Were you in the closest snogging with him 'Mione?" she teased enjoying the look of horror that rose on Hermione's face.

"Sick! No!"

"Like you haven't thought about it…" Ginny said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows. She was met with = a book flying towards her head and just barely ducked it. She leaned back and retrieved the book. "Sheesh, I've never seen you actually throw one of your books Hermione. I think I've hit the spot."

Taking back her book, Hermione raised her brows in innocence. "I _have not been daydreaming about Malfoy Ginny." She was met with a look of doubt. "Alright… I admit the bloke is rather...good-looking..." she said reluctantly. "If you like clammy skin and sneers, sure he's hot!"_

Ginny burst out laughing at her words. "I dunno. Whenever he says anything nasty to me, I just picture him naked and I can't hear a word he says…"

"_Who naked?" came a voice behind Ginny's head. She whipped around, and there stood Harry with his arms crossed, lips pursued and a suspicious look upon his face._

"Well of course you." Ginny said sweetly, grabbing a hold of Harry's pant leg and pulling him down beside her. "Right 'Mione?" she said shooting her a look.

"Yup, Harry," said Hermione. "You naked." She followed with a look of disgust and laughed.

Harry raised an eyebrow, "But since when do you find me to have clammy skin?"

The two girls exchanged a look of minor panic.

"I forgot I have to… take a book out of the library!" Hermione said standing up quickly and shoving all her belongings into her backpack.

Ginny pulled herself out from 'neath Harry's arm. "Uh…me too!" She hastily kissed Harry's cheek and took off inside the school with Hermione, leaving Harry behind with a look of shock on his face.

"Girls…" he mumbled shaking his head.

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"Shit, that was close." Hermione gasped, out of breath from her sprint inside the school. Ginny was also panting beside her.

"I actually _do have a book I want to take out of library, wanna come?" _

Ginny shook her head, "No way. I've got better things I can do on a perfectly good Sunday. Sorry!" 

Hermione shrugged and bid her good-bye. She was actually more relieved, Ginny always wanted to gossip when they were in the library, and it drove her nuts. When she was solitary she could accomplish way more.

Scanning the familiar shelves she began her search. Professor McGonagall said they were going to start human transfiguration that coming week and she wanted to read up about it as much as possible. 

"Aha!" she said grabbing 'Tricky Transfigurations of Humans' from the top shelf and settling into a comfy armchair near the back of the library away from a chittering group of Hufflepuffs who were receiving death glares from the librarian.

Scanning through the book she was reminded of the Triwizard Tournament when Victor had transfigured himself. She had been amazed, and couldn't wait to start human transfiguration herself. Dejectedly she had found out from Professor McGonagall that they wouldn't study the process until the 7th year as it was such a complicated branch of transfiguration.

Her process was interrupted by a nudging of herself. She glanced behind her to find a dark brown barn owl flittering and making the librarian about to have a heart attack.

"Ms. Granger, no owls in the library!" she hollered. 

Hermione offered an apology although it wasn't even her owl, quickly taking the letter and waving the owl out of the open window it had come in.

'Strange,' she thought reading the sprawled handwriting on the front of the letter. It was most definitely not from her parents or anybody she knew, as the writing was so unfamiliar.  

Ripping the letter open, she began to read:

_Dear Ms. Hermione Granger,_

_My name is Charlotte Demur. We have never met, so do not try recalling my name, you have never heard it. This letter is seventeen years old by now, the time you are reading it. My sweet child, oh how I wish I could tell you this in person, but circumstances that are beyond fate make me unable to._

_You see, I am your birth mother. I shan't use the word 'real' mother, because the incredible woman who had raised you is your real mother. Oh how I wish I could thank her for raising my little girl, although you are her little girl. _

_Alas, my child this letter is not about me revealing my identity to you. You have always known you were adopted; it was something I never wanted hid from you. The real reason of this letter is to inform you of something that was decided the day you were born and I gave you the name Hermione. Your true name isn't Hermione Ann Granger, but Hermione Annette Demur. You are betrothed to marry a boy the day after your eighteenth birthday, a boy by the name of Draco Malfoy. _

_I am most certain that young Draco will be in attendance at your school, or perhaps was a year older than yourself. Being born in April, I was uncertain of whether or not you would ever be in sweet Draco's year as he is almost a full year older than you, being born in June of the previous year himself._

_Oh sweet Hermione, I wish I could be there right now to hold you in my arms and explain all this. It must be such a shock to hear all this, and by yourself I suppose you might be. By the time you have read this letter I have been dead for sixteen years. I have an incurable sort of virus that is slowly taking my life, I caught it right after I gave birth to you and that is why I had to give you up for adoption. Your father is dead. He was a follower of the Dark Lord and was murdered by those dreadful Aurors. _

_The reason you were betrothed to the young Malfoy was suggested by our Dark Lord, and of course your father and Lucius agreed. I never did sweetie, I feel you should be able to find your own beau for yourself, but we must deal with what life gives us._

_Please forgive me for not being there to inform you of this news myself,_

_I will always love you my sweet Hermione,_

_Your mother,_

_Charlotte Demur _

Hermione stared at the letter, her mouth hanging open not saying a word or thinking a thought- just staring at the faded yellow paper in astonishment.

The first thing she thought was. Malfoy! She was to marry Malfoy? In April, in only six months she had to marry Draco Malfoy! She thought she would be sick, and unfortunately her stomach agreed with her as she went sprinting for the nearest girls' lavatory and threw up all over the wall, not making it to the toilet in time.

It wasn't completely the thought of marrying Malfoy that made her sick really, mostly just the shock of the contents of the letter. Leaning against the toilet, she rested her head in her hands and tried to still the whirl of thoughts running through her head.

She had to calm down. She couldn't actually be forced to marry Malfoy, this had to be some sick joke. 

And then she remembered only that morning. _Have you received any strange owls lately?_ His words echoed in her head. And there had been his strange behavior, his staring at her at breakfast. He knew and had accepted it.

It was true then.

She was to marry Draco Malfoy and there was nothing she could do about it.

To be continued…

**Please review!**


	3. Now I Don't Mind Us Being Some Kind Of C...

All aspects of Harry Potter © belong to J.K. Rowling, except this story, in which the words and tales woven are of my pen.

**Note**: I'm actually quite enjoying writing this fanfic…at the moment, my goal for each chapter is at least 1,500 words…and I hope to update 2x a week at the minimum…although I somehow don't think you guys care. I appreciate the reviews ya guys…ya make me wanna write more. So, yay! Anywho, enjoy the chapter.

-Tourniquet

**Chapter 3: ****Now I Don't Mind Us Being Some Kind Of Casual Thing…**

When Hermione had read the letter, she never noticed the small photograph that had been enclosed in the envelope as well until later that night. She was laying on her stomach on her bed studying the small photograph. It was obviously a magical picture as the woman in it was smiling, and rocking the baby in her arms with a content look upon her face. Hermione knew the woman _had to be her birth mother._

Her parents had never kept the fact that she was adopted from her. She looked like neither of them, and sometimes it had bothered her. Her younger brother Jaison had her mother's summery blue eyes and her father's black hair and look exactly like a pictures of her Uncle Ben, on her mother's side.

Hermione was an oddball. Nobody in her family had curly hair, nor were any of them really tall. She had been taller than her mother since her 4th year at Hogwarts and was only an inch smaller than her father. She had freckles. None of the other Grangers had freckles, even in her extended family.

But this picture somehow was a comfort to her. This woman had curly hair. She was tall and slim and a face full of freckles. Although the only difference was that she had pale blonde hair, she almost looked like a mirror of herself. It was comforting when all her world seemed in chaos. 

Immediately she thought of Malfoy. Somehow thinking of him in terms of 'Malfoy' was weird when she was going to be marrying him. 

Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling. Tomorrow she would have answers. She would talk to Malfoy and have this all straightened up. Closing her eyes, she didn't want to think about if this was all a mistaken and she wasn't betrothed to him after all.

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There it was - that uncertain flicker in her eyes. She knows.

Draco was seated at his usual spot at the Slytherin table; had been heavily watching the door to the Great Hall for signs of Hermione for the past twenty minutes. His patience had been growing thin until she appeared. Her eyes had dark bags underneath them, and her hair was somehow more unruly than ever. 

Immediately her eyes had glanced over in his direction when she appeared. It was hard to miss if you weren't watching, but he was. Again Draco thought to himself, 'She knows.' And then, 'She doesn't look too pleased.' That last thought brought a smirk to his face. Of course she wasn't.

Somehow he doubted she had shared the fact with her two cronies though. Harry and Ron looked like them usual selves and weren't shooting any glares or shouting any death threats at Draco of course. Those came _after_ breakfast. Draco had a certain inclining that they spent the whole breakfast thinking up insults.

He watched as Hermione took a seat with her back towards him. Interesting. She was scared? 

He hoped so.

Through all of breakfast she never turned to look at Draco. She was downright ignoring him, and it bothered the hell out of him. She was _his_ now of course. The letter told him. He had an urge to go over to the Gryffindor table and grab her. She belonged at his side, not laughing at Potter's joke and flashing goo-goo eyes at Weasley.

He didn't even realize he had been staring at her the whole time until she stood up and left the Hall, only pausing to shoot him a triumphant look that told him she would have nothing to do with him if she could help it.

The look did more things to Draco than he realized. Nobody outdid a Malfoy, especially not a Mudblood - but then he stopped himself. _She wasn't a Mudblood._ He made a mental note to stop himself from saying that to her ever again, and launched himself off his bench and towards the entrance.

Making his way into the entrance, he spotted her going up a set up stairs to his right. It was almost déjà vu, following her like the previous day except she didn't go to the library, nor did he make any attempt to catch up with her. He followed her at a distance, curious to where she was going. Finally she stopped outside a door on the third floor and looked around triggering Draco to duck behind a statue of a gargoyle. When he looked again she was gone. 

Upon entering the door she had disappeared into, Draco glanced around in confusion. The room was empty, completely void of anything and she was gone. Muttering to himself, he reached into his robes for his wand, pausing when he felt something probe him in the back.

"Don't even think about it Malfoy."

Of course he knew the voice belonged to Hermione and he chuckled in amusement. "You can't kill the guy you're going to marry." He taunted her, and it was true although she didn't know it. A magical betrothal disabled one person from ever harming the other, in order to prevent either from trying to kill the other to get out of the betrothal.

"Since I'm not marrying you, I suppose that means I can kill you?"

Draco whipped around and pushed her wand to the side with his hand, his face mocking. "Alas, Ms. Granger, or should I say Ms. Demur, you _will_ be marrying me and thus- be mine." He said and stepped closer to her.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You actually agree to this 'betrothal'? She said spitting the last word. "And I will never belong to any man, especially you!" 

"Of course I don't." Draco responded, although his tone didn't exactly agree with his words.

She laughed. "This is priceless. The one thing you want, you can't have." She paused before turning away and into the darkness, mumbling, "me." 

Draco began protesting, but she was gone. Somehow she knew how to disappear into the folds of the room, and he had no idea how she did it. It pissed him off considerably and he turned in a circle, trying to figure out where she was. The room was completely empty once again.

"You're wrong Granger! I don't want you!" he shouted into the darkness before striding out of the door, his footsteps heavy.

"I wish you did." The whisper of words was soft and unheard by any but the girl in the darkness who stared out longingly into the bright hallway after the blonde boy.

To be continued…. 

**Please review!**

  
  



	4. Listen, All I Wanna Do Right Now Is Have...

All aspects of Harry Potter © belong to J.K. Rowling, except this story, in which the words and tales woven are of my mind.

Note: You guys are so sweet. ^_^ Like someone commented, I am trying to keep the characters in "character" as much as possible, and I'm glad you guys agree I am. I must point out, in order for this to be a Draco/Hermione fanfiction, the characters must 'stray' a bit, because we all know in canon, the two will never be together. *sigh* Although we can all pray that J.K. Rowling soon realizes that Ron/Hermione are just too… plain? Okay, enough of my personal opinion! I apologize if any of ya guys are Ron/Hermione shippers because I know how much it bites to have your ship bashed. Anywho… I have nothing more to say, except enjoy!

-Tourniquet

**Chapter 4: Listen, All I Wanna Do Right Now Is Have Your Contact On Me…**

"Is it done?" The words came from a dark shape that stood infront of the flickering flames of the fireplace. Before his knelt a man with long blonde hair tied back and dressed in robes of emerald green and black.

"Yes, my Lord." Came his reply, bowing even farther to the ground. "They have been informed of their 'betrothal' and Ms. Demur will be ready for breeding in only a few months time.

"Ah, Lucius, you have done me well. I always valued this proposal. It will reap great benefits as long as the two participate thoroughly. Make sure they are _willing_. The offspring will not work if he is born of force."

"Willingly? You don't actually expect my son to _love_ that girl, do you my Lord?"

"And what would be wrong with that?" His voice was quiet, but dangerous. 

"She has been raised by Muggles! She has been _tainted-"_

"Be quiet you babbling idiot! You obviously have no idea what the girl is capable of. Guy Demur was the last known person with ­­­­­faerie blood of my knowledge that the Ministry had not slaughtered. If Guy and Charlotte would have had a son, we would not have had to wait all these years but a female will only in inherit her powers once she has child, and a child born of love. Do what you must to _encourage_ your son to quicken this tedious task. Of course the child does not have to be conceived in wedlock, that is to only encourage the two of them. See to it that the child is conceived by Christmas, or Lucius-"

"Yes my Lord?"

"You will be answering to me." 

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"Tra-la-la-la!"

The voice was coming from inside the room in which the Prefects were meeting. Hermione went inside and there was Ron and the other sixth and seventh year Perfects along with the Head Girl and Boy. They were all staring at Ron in either amusement or disdain and turned to look at her when she entered.

"Sorry I'm late," she said hastily plopping down on an empty couch "Are we beginning?"

"No, Draco is still not here," replied Head Boy Ernie Macmillan.

"Yes I am." Came a voice from the doorway. Hermione didn't have to look to know the voice belonged to Draco. She stared down at her hands, suddenly very interested in her bitten fingernails, refusing to look at him. That didn't stop him from taking a seat beside Hermione though. She continued inspecting her thumb nail, quite aware of her heart beginning to beat a bit faster.

"Great! Now that we're all here, we can begin." Said Ernie. "As most of you already know, Professor Dumbledore has suggested that the school have a Ball this year, quite similar to the one we all had three years ago. He also proposed we also have a sort of 'talent show' this year."

A chorus of groans was heard from throughout the room; even Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I know, talent shows are corny, but Dumbledore said that many students would enjoy it, as it will be a show in which magic will not be allowed."

"What?" came the voice to Hermione's left. She still didn't look over. "That's absurd! This isn't some _Muggle school, what sort of things would we perform at this show if we can't use magic?"_

Ernie smiled, "That is exactly why this show was suggested by Dumbledore. He thinks that many students would benefit from experienced some aspects of the Muggle world."

Draco snorted at his words but didn't say anything.

"Such proposed acts that we can suggest to the people in our houses are things such as dancing, acrobats, juggling, 'Muggle' magic acts, and basically anything people can think of that doesn't involve the use of their wand."

"Also please note that it is _mandatory_ for all prefects to in the talent show."

_"No way!"_

_"Oh crap!"_

_"What?"_

And many other numerous responses were echoed throughout the room by the sixteen people, the loudest being from Draco. "Bull-shit!"

"I'm sorry you guys," Ernie looked apologetic, "The mandatory involvement order came from McGonagall. She said something about how we're representatives of our houses and she has a point. Younger ones look up to us, and if we are involved others will join in as well."

Nobody said a word, as they all knew Ernie was right.

"Now we need everyone to sign up to a committee, maximum of two on each." He pulled out a piece of parchment from his robes and placed it upon the table. "First signed up, get's the job."

With that, everyone jumped up and scrambled to the table grabbing for the piece of parchment. Being the closest to the table, Draco grabbed it first and held it above his head, reading the committee's out loud.

"Talent Show Committees: Tickets… Organization of Acts… Invitational to Parents and Other Guests… Decorating…. Prizes…. Christmas Ball Committees: Decorating… Music… Refreshments."

People began yelling out their requests and Hermione watched in amazement as their names appeared on the parchment based on who claimed the job first. She didn't join in the screaming though as she didn't mind what committee she was on. 

Finally everyone was satisfied with what committee's they were on and left, leaving Draco, Hermione and Ron alone in the room. 

"What committee are you on 'Mione?" Ron asked.

"Decorating at the Christmas Ball," Draco said before she could open her mouth. 

She whipped around and stared at him. "What?"

"I took the liberty of signing you up." His smirk was pure amusement.

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms. "Let me guess. I'm on the committee with _you_."

"Of course."

Ron watched the two of the warily. "Hermione, what the hell-?"

"Nevermind!" she interrupted, grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the room. "He's just being his normal idiot self!"

"Yeah, but why would he sign you up to be on the committee with him?"

"What are you saying Ron? Am I not desirable enough to work on something with?"

Ron stopped in his tracks, stopping her with him. "I never said that! It's just since when does Draco want to be around you-"

"Oh, so that's it? You think that only Harry and yourself like being with me?"

"Of course not Hermione!"

Hermione dropped his arm and scowled at him. "You are so _male!" she shouted and strode off leaving an astonished Ron staring after her._

"What did I say?"

**To be continued…**

**Please review!**

**Author's Note: Many of you are probably wondering… "_when__ the hell are Draco and Hermione gonna get it on??"_**

Well…not for a long time, if at all. I can't stand fanfictions in which the two suddenly go and snog. People who hate each other take a long time to actually stand each other, nevermind go and fuck, and I can't manage to write longer than 1,000 word chapters. So have patience or else…stop reading. :/


	5. Can You Put Your Hands My Waistline?

**All aspects of Harry Potter © belong to J.K. Rowling, except this story, in which the words and tales woven are of my mind.**

AN: My greatest apologizes in not updating, but when you are contemplating your life, writing is very far from your mind.

Enjoy

-Tourniquet

**Chapter 5: ****Can You Put Your Hands My Waistline?**

"And McGonagall says that the winner of the talent show will earn their house 200 points and, more importantly 100 Galleons!"

"You're kidding! Maybe I will enter after all…"

Hermione smiled as she watched a pair of second year Gryffindors discussing the up and coming Christmas events. She brushed the feather of her quill against her cheek and continued listening. It has been 2 weeks since the talent show and Christmas Ball had been announced, and it seemed nothing else was being discussed. The prizes were revealed yesterday and the number of acts in the show had doubled since.

"I know- we can do a juggling act for the show."

"You can juggle?"

"Well, no. Only a minor detail…"

Hermione snorted at those last words. She had a feeling that the show would be a mixture of good and bad acts, and was looking forwards to it immensely, aside from the part where she had to perform.

Hermione wasn't one to call herself shy, but she did not enjoy being staring at by hundreds of people. Added the fact she still didn't know what she was going to do, she was also dreading the event at the same time.

She stared down at the list she had made that morning.

Possible Things I Can Do For the Show:

Dance  
Juggle

Tell Jokes

Rap

Mime

Lecture 

Cut Harry in half

Blow bubbles

Play the recorder

Swallow a sword

Read poetry

Make Crookshanks tell jokes

Sing

She stared down at the list item on her list. Her last hope. Singing. She raised an eyebrow in doubt. Could she really sing at the show?

No way. Unless…

An idea came to her, and she folded up the list and stuffed it in her pocket. Maybe it would work…

----

"Now class, what is the first rule of human transfiguration?" Professor McGonagall stood in the front of the Seventh Year Class and pursued her lips. Automatically her eyes drifted to Hermione who in the past seven years had answered the majority of the questions she asked the class. Hermione wasn't even listening though. 

Her eyes were focused on some distant object out the window and her eyes were hazy.

"Yes?"

Harry had raised his hand reluctantly. "Be absolutely certain of the incantation that you are using, or else do not attempt it."

"Correct." A rare smile formed on McGonagall's lips. "The risk of human transfiguration going wrong is not something that you want to play with. It is a very risqué process transfiguring oneself or another and if the procedure goes wrong, you can be stuck with a shark fin for the rest of your life."

The class giggled at the imagery. 

"It may seem funny, but in the past, even Dumbledore has not been able to cure a distorted transfiguration and a number of people have had to undergo Muggle surgery to fix their problems at a great risk to the exposure of our world."

"Now I need a volunteer for our very first human transfiguration."

The room remained silent, and not one person dared move. After being warned of the risks of human transfiguration, nobody wanted to be the guinea pig.

McGonagall frowned. "Of course _I_ will be performing the transfiguration." She added and raised her eyebrows in surprise when Draco Malfoy's arm reached into the air.

"Thank-you Mr. Malfoy."

Draco strutted the front of the class and stared at his classmates from beneath his blonde bangs with a look of smugness.

"I will be transfiguring a pair of angel wings to Malfoy's back."

Everyone erupted in laughter at the irony of the situation and her words. 

Even Professor McGonagall had to chuckle. "Angelic wings enable the person with them a variety of powers. Not flying as one would except; the most common uses are invisibility and the ability to read someone else's mind."

Draco raised his eyebrows. That didn't sound too bad to him, even if he had to wear the girly things.
    
    "Now everyone repeat after me. "Rectus angelus!"

"Rectus angelus!"

She turned to Draco and with a flick of her wand an aura of golden-white light appeared around him and made him seem to disappear for 4 or 5 seconds, and then he appeared again as the light disappeared, this time with a pair of wings on the top of his back. They weren't what one expected. They were white of course, but almost undetectable. You could only see them when the light reflected off of them.

Many 'awws!' could be heard and not only from the girls. The wings were the type of thing that nobody could deny being beautiful, they were made of such purity and splendor.   

Draco strained his neck and looked behind himself and then back at McGonagall. 

'You only have to want to be invisible to achieve it.'

He almost fell off McGonagall's desk in which he had been leaning on. It was almost as if her voice was in his head.

'Yes Mr. Malfoy, you can hear my thoughts. Now why not try the invisibility?'                                                 

Draco turned away from her and closed his eyes. A chorus of gasps was heard throughout the room as he had vanished in thin air.

"Class dismissed." McGonagall announced. 

Once the classroom emptied, Draco appeared before her.

"Your wings will last for exactly twelve hours. Be warned that any _mischief_ you indulge in, while you possess your wings may result in expulsion…"

He quickly nodded and then took off towards the Great Hall, enjoying the admiring gazes of the students of Hogwarts as he passed. Many stared, more whispered, but nobody dared approach him. His steps were too purposeful to dare interrupting.

Taking a seat at the Slytherin table beside a fifth year he had no idea the name of, he stared up at the ceiling. Seemed it was going to rain that night, the roof was covered in grayish-black clouds that concealed most of the stars in he sky.

"Don't even think about it." He said in a quiet but even voice.

The girl standing behind him paused her movements and stared at the back of his head in wonder. Her hand was outstretched and only a couple inches from touching the wings on his back.

How Draco had knew she was there and what she was about to do, was beyond him. The girl took off, almost running back to the Ravenclaw table, taking a seat and started whispering that Draco had eyes in the back of his head.

He sighed in relief when the dishes upon the table filled with the evening meal, and the students distracted began eating. Swallowing a mouthful of Pumpkin Juice he smiled. He had been staring at Hermione from across the Great Hall, and it seemed that just concentrating on someone would enable him to hear their thoughts. Slowly she had looked up - her eyes seemed to be drawn towards him.

"He looks actually innocent with those wings."

Her words filled his head and he laughed. So Granger thought he was a 'bad boy'?   

Winking at her from across the room caused her cheeks to colour and to stare down at the chicken and potatoes on her plate.

'Let's see how _innocent_ she thinks I am later,' Draco thought to himself with a smirk before disappearing from his seat and causing a commotion with all the students that hadn't seen his trick already.

To be continued…

----

I really, DO NOT like this chapter. I almost hate it, and I am very tempted to re-write it, but I'm anxious to move on with the story.

Question - what do ya guys think Draco should do for the talent show? I'm open to suggestions. ^_^


	6. Want Your Skin Up Against Mine

**All aspects of Harry Potter © belong to J.K. Rowling, except this story, in which the words and tales woven are of my mind.**

AN: The tale grows deeper… Thank-you for the kind reviews. I shall not try to disappoint any with my lack of creativity these days. Just haven't been in the mood to write, but I'd feel bad if I gave up on this story when I have people who actually wanna read more. *shrug*

Enjoy!

Tourniquet

**Chapter 6: ****Want Your Skin Up Against Mine…**

The night gently floated through the open window and into the room of the seventh year Gryffindor Prefect Hermione Granger. It was a rather calm night in November, and a few snowflakes drifted into the room landing upon Hermione's desk. She was still awake at midnight, writing furiously on a piece of parchment, unaware of the water droplets soaking into her paper. When a particularly snowflake landed on her cheek she looked up in wonder. She hadn't opened the window. 

Nobody in their right mind would leave their window open at that time of the year. She shivered, as the room had grown quite cold in the last hour in which the warmth had escaped through the window leaving a chill in the air.

She closed the window, and placed he latch to make sure it wouldn't open again.   

Rubbing at her eyes, Hermione yawned and glanced at her watch. "Shit it's late." She mumbled sitting down on her bed and pulling off her socks.

She began unbuttoning her blouse when the cold night air on her revealed throat made her pause in action. Looking over at the window she gaped in confusion. The window was wide open again, the latch undone.

"What the hell?" she strode over and slammed the window shut again in annoyance. She didn't have the patience to deal with a window that wouldn't stay shut when she was so tired and just wanted to collapse in bed.

As she was about to pull off her shirt, the trickle of chilly air hit her neck once again. Growling in frustration she turned around in preparation to do anything to keep the darn window shut, even if it meant nailing in shut. 

There standing before her was a blonde boy with the biggest smirk she had ever seen. "Nice socks."

Hermione's mouth gaped open for only seconds before she realized that he was not referring to her socks, but rather the fact that she was standing there in front of him in only her underwear, socks and a blouse that was open from the neck to navel. 

"_What the hell_ are you doing in my room Malfoy?" she shrieked grabbing a blanket off the foot of her bed and wrapping it around her, in the process even covering the top of her head with it.

He chuckled closing the window with the nudge of his shoulder and plopped down her bed, resting his hands behind his head. "Just testing my wings." He stared up with glee, having caught her in one of her most private moments.

She stared down and had to wonder how long he had been in her room. At least he had the decency to reveal himself before she had gotten completely naked – it that was any decency at all.

"Nice room you got here…" he said eyeing the walls. "Who is Justin Timberlake?" he raised an eyebrow as he stared at a poster hanging above her wall.

Hermione blushed. Harry always bugged her about that poster and her crush on Justin Timberlake. She had never been so happy in her life that Draco Malfoy was not any part of the Muggle world than at the moment.

"No-body."

Draco continued to study the poster. "Bloke looks me. I always knew you fancied blondes Granger." He teased. "But anyways, I _am_ here for an actual reason." He sat up on her bed and patted the spot next to him with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

"Ha! Right. I don't think so Malfoy. If I told McGonagall about you sneaking into peoples rooms at night-"

"You wouldn't do that. I know you Granger. You like to obey the rules, but you don't go and tell on people. It even bothers you when others do. You think it's low behavior…"

He was right, and she had no idea how he knew. Rolling her eyes she mumbled, "whatever," and sat down at the chair at her desk. "Well what do you want anyways? I do want to go to bed sometime tonight."

"Don't let me keep you from that." He received a 'Standard Book of Spells 7' in the head for that comment. "Fine-fine. I wanted to ask you for help."

"With?" she asked suspiciously.

"That bloody talent show." He reluctantly answered not looking her in the eye. "I need a little help and it's not like I can ask Crabbe or Goyle. They've decided their going to compete against each other in a pie eating contest for their act." His nose wrinkled in disgust.

"What kind of help do ya need?" she pulled her chair closer, unaware that her blanket was inching its way off her shoulders.

"I don't know what I should do." 

She pursued her lips in thought. "I'll think about it and get back to you. How's that?"

"I guess alright."

"Malfoy, this whole betrothal thing…" She bit her lip and stared at Draco's feet. She had never noticed, but the boy was wearing sneakers.

"Yeah?"

"Well, you don't actually agree with it…right?"

Draco sighed and actually looked somber for once. "I've been thinking about it for a while now. At first, I was surprised that it was _you_." She nodded in understanding. She had been just as confused with finding out she was a Pureblood and all that nonsense. "But, all my life I've been told that I'm going to marry this one girl, well you. It's not like I can question it, you know? It's like the sky being blue or me hating Potter, it's just the way things have always been and it's hard to change something like that; the same with this betrothal. My Mother always told me that this one special girl would change the world for, she'd light my day; make the sun shine on my gloomiest day-" he stopped abruptly when he realized he was rambling on. 

Hermione stared at him in amazment. This was Malfoy, spilling his heart out to her in her bedroom and she was half-naked. "This won't get you in my knickers you know…"

He threw back his head and laughed, an open laugh, not a sneer but just genuine laughter. "Thanks Granger, I needed that. I'm gonna be uh…going now. I think I made a big enough ass of myself for the night."

She smiled a small smile. "I'll let you know if I come up with anything…"

And with that, Draco disappeared again. She turned around and around in her room in amazement. It was like whenever Harry put on his Invisibility cloak. It took your breath away for a few moments.

"Night Draco." She whispered and crawled into her bed, snuggling up to her pillow and thinking over what he had said over and over in her mind.

_"…My Mother always told me that this one special girl would change the world for me…"_

She smiled. It was the sweetest things she had ever heard from Draco Malfoy's mouth, and with those thoughts she dozed off to sleep, unsuspecting that he was perched on her desk, just watching her – nothing creepy about it. He just wanted to watch his future bride sleep.

AN: Awww…yes. So sappy, but I don't care LOL 

Yeah I know it's been like 4 months since I updated, but well I didn thave a computer! I did write ¾ of this chapter back in September but it needing fixing and all.

TBC…


	7. Move My Hips to the Baseline

**All aspects of Harry Potter © belong to J.K. Rowling, except this story, in which the words and tales woven are of my mind.**

AN: Hullo…again! Tis' the season to read fanfiction! *grin* Hope all is well with everyone reading this. ^_^ May y'all have a great Christmas with lots of snuggles from your friends and family. 

AN II: Warning, of the icky R/Hr moments ahead that had to be put in, although they almost made me barf in writing them. Just kidding. ;)

Merry Christmas,

Tourniquet

**Chapter 7: ****Move My Hips to the Baseline…**

For a crisp day in December, things were usual in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Students hurried around the castle anxious for the Christmas break that was coming nearer, munching on candy canes and singing carols in the corridors as they hurried to class.

Everyone was in fantastic spirits except for one person - a tall bloke with red hair and a frown to match. Ron Weasley was usually the first person to hang his stocking in the Gryffindor common room to give any indication, and this year he had yet to even mention Christmas to his peers.

He was perched with chin in hand in one of the highest rooms in Hogwarts where the owls awaited a mission and stared at him in curiosity. Staring out into the dark December night, Ron scowled for the 100th time that day thinking of a certain brunette who had haunted his thoughts and dreams for the past seven years it seemed. 

Hermione Granger was his best friend, other than Harry of course. So why was she ignoring him? He still remembered the past summer when she had come to visit him and the rest of the Weasley clan and they had stayed up all night talking of the schoolyard to come. Well, that wasn't what was on his mind, he admitted. It was that kiss. The first and only time he had the pleasure of kissing Hermione. She had been laying beside him in the grass that night, snuggling up to him, as the night grew chilly and he had just planted one on her. It had taken him all night to get up the nerve and she hadn't slapped him or pushed him away. Instead she had wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

He could still recall the shivers that had run down his neck when she had gently brushed her fingertips across the nape of his neck. The next day they hadn't spoken, but snuck glances at each other across the breakfast table, and then Hermione had left – gone home to spend her last days with her parents before returning to Hogwarts.

They hadn't spoken of the incident since, and it was driving him insane not knowing. What did she think of that night at the Burrow? Sighing, he kicked at some stray straw and headed back to the dormitory. Upon returning to Hogwarts, Ron thought he and Hermione would just continue where they left that summer. Start dating, and finally he could be with the girl he loved, but things didn't go as planned. 

Something strange was going on with Hermione. She was always distracted. One literally had to smack her upside the head sometimes to get her attention; she seemed to be in a daze. The strangest thing of all in his opinion was the time she was spending with Malfoy. They were spending hours together everyday, working on their committee as Hermione always said, but somehow he didn't believe it. Weirder than that was she didn't seem to hate Malfoy anymore, seemed like she liked him.

He thought back to their conversation after Potions yesterday. She and Ron were wasting time as they waited for Harry to finish talking with Snape who had held him back after class to discuss his detention. Apparently Harry had been throwing spitballs according to Malfoy, which everyone knew was crap. Instead like usual Snape either believed Malfoy or just needed an excuse to terrorize Harry. Either way, things didn't go as he wanted with him and Hermione.

"So what are your plans for tonight, Mione?" Ron had asked, fiddling with a button on his robe. He had hoping to ask her to meet him somewhere alone tonight and finally talk to her about everything.

"Oh, Draco and I are going to start arranging the Christmas stuff in the Great Hall." She had said casually as she dug through her bag in search of something.

He had stared at her, his mouth slightly hanging open. "You and _who_?"

She looked up in surprise at his tone. "Draco."

"Since when do you call him Draco?" Ron had demanded, his face turning red.

"Since he's not a bad guy Ron, if you and Harry just gave him a chance-"

"Puh-lease!" Ron had spat. "I don't know what is going on with you two Hermione, but I don't like it at all!" He was clenching his fists at his side, in attempt to not freak out.

She had stopped then and stepped closer to Ron, staring up all five inches into his angry face. "Since when do I need _your_ permission to do anything Ronald Weasley?" she said in a dangerous tone.

"From the time you started liking that ferret!" Ron had almost bellowed in her face.

She had stepped back and not speaking another word, had took off down the corridor, her steps angry and her hair flying behind her. Harry chose that moment to come out, having been quietly listening.

"You still haven't learned have you?" Harry said coming up behind Ron and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You'll never get Hermione to listen if you talk to her like that."

Ron didn't respond but he knew Harry was right and his chance with Hermione was gone for the moment.

Making his way up to his room, Ron snapped at pair of first years who were still up. He had to stop taking his anger out on others but at the moment he couldn't care less. There was something up with Hermione and Malfoy and he was determined to figure out what it was.

**To be continued of course…**


	8. Let Me Get Mine, You Get Yours

**All aspects of Harry Potter © belong to J.K. Rowling, except this story, in which the words and tales woven are of my mind.**

AN: Thankies for all the great reviews. :) Such encouragement makes me wanna write more. Someone asked about the title of this story. Yes it does have relevance. Eventually… *grin*

Only 2 sleeps til Santa! Hee

-Tourniquet

**Chapter 8: ****Let Me Get Mine, You Get Yours**

"You have to be kidding me!" Draco exclaimed in surprise and disgust. "You want me to play the piano for that bloody talent show?"

"Why not?" Hermione demanded, hands on her hips. "I happen to know that you can play, and extremely well."

He rolled his eyes. He couldn't deny that fact. For some reason his mother had insisted he studio that bloody instrument since he was a child and he was a master at it. He had bragging rights to how fantastic he was, but nobody in Hogwarts knew of that except Hermione now of course. 

She had discovered Draco hunched over the grand piano in the Great Hall last night playing a mournful tune. She had stood watching him for a long time, he not noticing her or her stare. It was a side of Draco Malfoy she never thought existed, and it touched her.

"Granger, you don't understand. Slytherins _do not_ play the piano, and even for some reason if they can, they don't play in public!" 

She rolled her eyes at his vain comments. "Nobody will notice you Malfoy, you're going to be accompanying me."

His eyebrows raised he said, "You're going to sing?"

"Yep."

That played a different tune in his mind. Playing the stupid piano in public would be bad enough, but if he helped her out maybe she would finally let down her shell. 

Everyday now he was getting a letter from his father harassing about this bloody betrothal. He was so tempted to tell him to screw off; he wasn't going to go through it. He and Hermione had nothing in common; a marriage between them would never work and he doubted she would approve of him visiting some 'friends' every once in a while. Although he wouldn't have to go that root if she relented about this whole betrothal and let him visit her again in her dorm one night.

He could still recall when he suggest the idea one night, saying that it would help them become "more acquainted" before their coming marriage. She had responded by transfiguring a pair of antlers to his head for a week, something even Madam Pomfrey couldn't get rid of. 

Perhaps this talent show was the key to Hermione's bed sheets and the solution to finally cementing a marriage.

"Alright. I'll play for you, one condition though." He said almost sweetly.

She beamed and produced a sheet of music from her bag. "I doubt you'll have problems with this, after hearing you last night."

Scanning the music, it didn't look too difficult. He'd run through it a few times tomorrow before the talent show that night.

"So what's this 'one condition'?" she asked warily staring at Draco like she used to in the years before when she wanted to hex him.

Draco grinned. "You have to tell Potty and Weasel about us tonight."

Her mouth dropped. "You know I can't! They'll flip, and it's only two days before Christmas! I don't want to ruin it for them."

He shrugged. "Fine, then I won't play."

"That's not fair Draco, that's blackmail!" She fumed.

He shrugged again. "Remind me when I care," he said and strode of out the Great Hall, his stagger back.

"Gah!" she yelled in frustration, happy that nobody was around to hear her outburst. Things were going so well between her and Draco. Since that letter in September they had ceased to fight anymore - well with each other that is. Of course in public they still acted like their usual selves, putting on the 'I-despise-you' act, but when alone they usually got along. Draco still got on her nerves being an ignorant, know-it all Slytherin, but she had come to accept his ways. Sorta.

The problem was that she still had to tell Harry and Ron about her predicament. She knew she had been procrastinating the whole time, trying to tell herself that someone she could avoid this marriage, but the letters she had been receiving told her otherwise. They were from her biological grandmother Joséphine whose letters were filled with praise of the Malfoys and her excitement for her forthcoming wedding. Hermione had been disappointed to read that she wouldn't get to meet her until the actual wedding; she was desperate to meet some of her true family, the Demur family. 

Making her way towards the Gryffindor tower she tried to think of the best way to tell her friends about her predicament. Silently she cursed Draco for making her do this tonight. 

"Harry, Ron you'll never guess who is getting married-" Nope.

"So guys, remember how we were talking about the last person you'd ever marry last year? Well he's not that bad actually." Gah.

"Hey guys, Malfoy and I are getting hitched in a few months, and you are invited-"

Sighing she muttered the password to the Fat Lady who asked her why she was so glum when Christmas was two days away. She didn't bother answering; instead marching her way into the common room and grabbing Harry and Ron's hand. "I need to talk to you guys." She choked out.

They exchanged a glance. "Sure Hermione," Ron said, "what's up?"

She turned toward the window and stared outside for a long moment studying the frost covered trees and twinkling lights in the sky. "You guys might want to sit down for this…"

AN: To be continued…

(Yes I'm evil to end it there. ^_^)


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